


Philza Becomes Dadza

by leggyman



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Ahah I'm sorry, Another fic of Phil becoming a Dad, Anxiety Attacks, Being Rewritten, Big Man Is Here, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Bullying, Car Accidents, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Dadza, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dehumanization, Did y'all know its 'just deserts' but its pronounced 'just desserts'? wack, Dream gets being a protective older brother hahah, Dream is chill, Eret and Toby Smith | Tubbo are Siblings, Even More Past Abuse!, Extremely uncool past siblings, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fire, Fist Fights, Fluff, Foster Care, Gen, Guitars, Homophobic Language, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's Not A Big Theme But More Mentioned, Its funny that that's a tag i think, Just Problem Child Tings, Kid Fic, Language, Nihachu Is Mom Friend Confirmed, Non-Binary Eret, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pancakes, Past Abuse, Phil Has Huge Brain, Phil Understands His Children, Philza Respects Others, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Siblings, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Tommyinnit, Running Away, Sibling Bonding, Sneaking Out, Techno angry, Their Math Teacher Really Is The Worst, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Tommy Throws Down Again, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Swears (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Watches Cartoons, Trans Floris | Fundy, Trans Male Character, Trust Issues, Wilbur has had a bad time before, healthy parenting, selective mutism, unsafe binding, who gave them energy drinks dear god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leggyman/pseuds/leggyman
Summary: Phil slowly keeps adopting children-----BEING RE-WRITTEN AND POSTED UNDER THE TITLE "GROWING UP". SEE LAST CHAPTER FOR MORE INFORMATION.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 259
Kudos: 2730





	1. Take Me Back To The Night We Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "the night we met" by lord huron

Techno had been taken in by Phil in the most illegal means to begin with. Of course, Phil eventually rectified that through the courts and legally fostered and eventually adopted the boy, but the beginning of his stay was less than procedural.

It had all started on a cold, winter night. Living in a place that experienced all four seasons to the fullest extent, the ground was covered in a layer of snow around a half-a-foot deep, more being added in the near blizzard. Phil had been relaxing on his couch, covered in a few layers of blankets, reading and drinking hot chocolate. His fireplace served to warm up the cottage-like home, as well as provide ample enough light to read. There was white noise in the form of the wind and snow hitting the windows and walls of the home, loud but not loud enough to be annoying.

The white noise was interrupted by the sound of a loud crash coming from outside. Phil started, gently laying his book upside down to mark his place, and leaving the cocoon of blankets. He donned his jacket, slipped on a pair of boots and grabbed a flashlight before venturing out into the blizzard. He lived in what could probably be considered the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thick forestation without neighbors for miles. He would’ve usually chalked up a random noise to an animal, but for some reason, there was an uneasiness that was unlike anything he’d felt before with this particular disruption. It was, objectively, an awful idea to check out a loud noise when he was unarmed, in a blizzard, and with no one to hear him if things went sour. Nevertheless, the location where Phil thought it was from had led him to want to investigate.

It sounded like it had come from inside his shed.

Phil pressed on through the snow, feeling it wet the bottoms of his pant legs when his boots sunk all the way through. Eventually, he made his way to the sizable metal shed and ripped open the door with much less hesitance than he should’ve had.

He made immediate eye contact with another person. It was a boy, who couldn’t have been more than ten years old, frozen in place like a deer in headlights. He was shivering slightly, his breath making little white clouds. He was probably tall for his age, with shoulder-length brown hair and pale skin. He was standing over a few knocked-over snow shovels, which were probably the source of the crash.

What immediately concerned the man was how thin the child was, and almost more-so how he was definitely not dressed for the weather. The kid was in nothing but a thin long sleeve and a pair of loose sweatpants, folded over at the waistband a few times to keep them up. His shoes were entirely soaked through, looking like the breathable tennis shoes runners wore. 

“What are you doing in my shed?” Phil asked in a soft voice. The boy immediately reacted, slamming himself into the back wall. He curled up protectively in the corner, eyes darting around to look for a presumed escape route. Phil placatingly held up his free hand, still gripping the flashlight with the other.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Phil stated. The boy didn’t become any less tense, but he did make eye contact with the man. Progress.

“Would you like to come into my house?” Phil offered, “You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here.” 

They held eye contact with each other for a bit, the child seemingly weighing his options, and eventually stood up to follow Phil.

He gently coaxed the child to sit on the couch, and then went to grab some of his own warmer clothes. They’d be big on him, but it was better than the wet ones he currently had on. He grabbed a hand-knit sweater and some flannel pajama pants for the boy, and gave them to him. The child was curled up next to the armrest, tracking Phil with his eyes.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Phil asked. The boy intently stared into Phil’s eyes, searching for malice, and eventually gave a small nod in response. Phil went to the kitchen and got to work, thinking over how genuinely odd this situation was. What was this child doing out in the middle of nowhere, in terrible weather, seemingly malnourished, and with not nearly warm enough clothing to boot?

Phil figured he’d try and find out the intricacies of the boy’s situation in the morning. After all, there was no way that he’d send the child back out into the snow and there wasn’t exactly a way for Phil to find any sort of parental figure the child had that night. For now, he should try and figure out basic information. Hell, he didn’t even know the kid’s name.

Phil wandered back into the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate to find the child still watching him and in his original position, except now wearing the clothes from Phil. The man warmly smiled, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, as he handed the boy his mug.

“What’s your name?” Phil asked gently, keeping the smile on his face. He had plenty of things that he wanted to know, but he didn’t want to startle the boy too much. His body language was defensive, and Phil didn’t want to do anything to worsen that.

Instead of responding verbally, the boy used his pointer finger to write in the air a series of letters.

_ T-E-C-H-N-O. _

“Techno, aye?” Phil responded, receiving a nod. That threw a bit of a wrench into things. Phil only knew how to fingerspell in sign, and even then there were a few letters he’d forgotten.

“Do your parents live around here?”

A shake of the head.

“Do you  _ have  _ parents?”

Another head shake.

Well, that was more than concerning. After finding out a bit more basic information in a similar manner (the kid  _ was  _ in fact ten), Phil resolved to go to sleep for the night. He showed Techno where the bathroom was, where Phil’s room was in case he needed anything, and grabbed a pile of extra blankets and pillows. He turned off almost all of the lights, leaving only a single lamp on as a night light.

“Goodnight, Techno,” Phil said with a soft smile, watching as Techno nodded in response.

As Phil climbed into bed, he tried to figure out what the next step was. He was quite worried about Techno’s situation, such as the fact that he tried to sleep in a shed during a blizzard and his supposed lack of parents, and had inadvertently became attached.

Oh well, that was an issue for Tomorrow Phil.


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil comes up with a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at the end of this, there is mention of an anxiety attack. its only a few sentences and doesn't go into overwhelming detail. you can skip it without missing much of the plot :-)

When Phil woke up the next morning, everything came back in a rush. Shit, he needed to figure out a plan. The first step of the plan? Breakfast.

He wandered out into the kitchen, poking his head into the living room to see Techno in the same spot he was the night before. He’s been breathing softly, and as if on a cue, his eyes opened, and stared at Phil.

Despite it being somewhat unnerving, Phil warmly greeted the boy with a “good morning.” Techno smiled back at him, ever so slightly, which was the first time Phil had seen him do anything of the sort. It warmed his heart.

Techno got up off of the couch and picked up a beat-up backpack that Phil had managed to not notice he had. He headed in the direction of the door, looking back at Phil for a moment before making the move to leave.

“Hang on, buddy,” Phil interrupted, “Stay for breakfast? We can figure out a plan together.”

Techno stared back at him, before gently setting the bag down and following Phil into the kitchen. He’d revealed the night before that he didn’t exactly have a place to go. Although he didn’t provide any reasoning for this, all that really mattered was that this ten-year-old kid was homeless.

Phil had already started to internally resolve to just have Techno move in, if he wanted to that is. The cabin could get lonely at times, and he had three spare bedrooms, originally for “friends” that had only stayed over a handful of times in the years that he’s lived there. Most chose the couch, anyway. His couch was borderline-comfier than the guest beds, which were a bit stiff after not being properly maintained due to lack of use.

Phil whipped up some simple pancakes, adding some blueberries for extra taste. Techno didn’t seem put off by the idea, so he figured it was probably alright. He handed a plate to Techno with his own stack of pancakes slathered in syrup, and took his own identical plate. Techno watched Phil take a bite of his meal before quickly scarfing down his.

“So,” Phil began his proposition, “If you truly have no place to go, you are welcome to stay here. There are extra rooms, if you’d like. I’d feel better knowing you weren’t hiding in someone’s shed.” Phil chuckled, staring at the child across from him, trying to gauge his reaction.

After a few minutes of silent deliberation, Techno hesitantly nodded his head. To be quite honest, he didn’t exactly enjoy sleeping in sheds either. And Phil had been nice to him, giving him clothes, food, and a place to stay. There wasn’t a reason for Techno to be suspicious yet. If push came to shove, he figured he could escape whenever he needed to. Phil hadn’t exactly held him hostage the night before.

It took a long time for Techno to legally become Phil’s son. Emotionally, he’d adopted him the first night he was there. Over the first two years, Techno and Phil grew into a solid family. After the legal work was sorted out, Techno was enrolled in an actual school and began to live a normal childhood.

There were certainly bumps along the way. The first time Techno accidentally broke a glass, Phil had to practically wrestle him onto the couch before he could bolt. The shitty backpack had left the closet for the first time since he’d moved in on that day, and Phil hated the sight of it. Techno was shaking and flinching and Phil employed every breathing exercise known to man to get his son to calm down. That night, they had a movie night and fell asleep together on the couch.

The first time Techno spoke to him, Phil teared up. It was a simple event, simply Phil picking up Techno from school in his beat-up car. Techno buckled in and huffed in preparation. As Phil shifted the car into drive, Techno muttered a quiet “thank you.” Phil almost crashed the car in surprise and leaned over the center console to hug him. He was beyond proud of his son.

It was just the two of them for the first two years, until Phil received a call from the foster agency at two in the morning, asking how willing he was to take in a second child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading chapter two. We're trucking along quickly, but I'd like to get into plot sooner rather than later. It'll be around two chapters for each kid's introduction, I think. Stick around because I've already started working on the next chapter, hahah. Once again, thank you!


	3. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil gets a call from the foster agency in the middle of the night, asking to take in another child.

Phil would call back the agency in a few minutes. This choice was something that needed to be made with Techno. He knew how hesitant his son could be around new people, and he wanted to make sure that Techno would be alright with another child occupying their home, even temporarily. After giving some less-than-fun-facts about the boy’s situation and why they had called him so early, Techno agreed. As standoffish as he could be towards others, he had always wanted a brother.

Phil gave the go-ahead to the agency and the family packed into the car. Phil had grabbed some extra clothes and Techno had grabbed one of his blankets, all of which were placed in the trunk. The agency hadn’t told him exactly what state the boy was currently in, just listing off his name, age, and why he was sitting in the police station at two in the morning (Wilbur, 15 and running away from his group home one too many times, respectively).

The car ride began with quiet conversation between Phil and Techno, eventually evolving into Techno falling asleep in the passenger seat. They didn’t exactly live close to the main city, which had the specific police station Wilbur was at, so the sun had already started rising by the time they arrived. Phil called Techno’s school, saying he wasn’t coming in, and then gently shook his son awake. Techno was a light sleeper when he first moved in, but after trust was built, Phil discovered he could probably sleep through a tornado.

After a bit of coaxing, Phil and Techno both exited the car and entered the station. They were guided to the back in order to fill out paperwork. That was also the first time they saw the boy.

He was lanky, towering over both of them with ease, and looked just as skinny as Techno had that first night. He was shockingly pale, which only served to contrast the bruise on his cheek. His hair was brown and a bit of a disaster in a way that Phil was almost positive wasn’t intentional. He had on a beanie and a dirty white sweater that swallowed him and was torn at the elbows. Upon first glance, he seemed disinterested in everything that was going on around him, absentmindedly picking at his fingernails. However, Phil noticed that he was tense from head to toe and would wince whenever someone got too close or made a sudden loud noise.

Phil approached him with intentional movements, making everything slow and pronounced enough that Wilbur could see everything he did but not enough to where anyone else would think there was an issue. Techno stood just behind him, watching the scene but not approaching the boy himself.

Phil stood in front of Wilbur, body language intentionally open and a warm smile on his face, and Wilbur eventually looked up at him. He had dark brown doe-eyes that showed nothing carefully concealed fear. Phil could see right through him, he raised Techno for Christ’s sake, but he didn’t let the boy in front of him know that. He introduced himself and mentally added that to his ‘list of things about Wilbur’ before being called over to fill out paperwork.

That left Techno. He could’ve gone with Phil, but he’d have to bite the bullet and introduce himself anyway. He gave a small nod, and Wilbur responded with the same thing. Techno pulled a small notebook out of his pocket that he kept on him at almost all times, and wrote down  _ My name is Techno  _ in his neat handwriting. Wilbur nodded at him, before simply stating, “Wilbur.”

Quite the conversationalists, they were.

They sat in uncomfortable silence, Wilbur picking at his nails and Techno fidgeting with his hoodie strings, until Phil came back. Without pomp and circumstance, the three made their way to the car, Wilbur taking up a spot in the backseat. He hadn’t said a word and curled up into himself, resting his gangly limbs on the seat and holding his head between his knees. He stared out the window as Phil tried to make small talk, eventually giving up after receiving only one-word answers. Phil turned the radio onto some folk station, and that and Techno’s soft snores were the only noises filling up the car.

At some point, they finally reached the home. Phil shook Techno awake, and they all exited the car, Wilbur taking his bag with him, holding it protectively against his chest. He seemed tense as he walked into the house, Phil giving him a quick tour warmly before sending him into a guest room, which was now his room. Phil showed him that the door locked, and that he was allowed to lock it, but Phil did have a key that he’d only use if absolutely necessary. Wilbur hadn’t said a word throughout the whole thing, as he didn’t quite know how long Phil’s generosity and kind demeanor would last.

Whatever - he’d take advantage of it until it ran out. He set his bag directly next to his bed, locked the door, and crawled underneath the warm blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading champs! Let me know if I missed any tags or if you have any comments! I am fueled on kudos, comments and Wilbur melting into his chair after pressing the button exclusively :-)


	4. Guitar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur loves the guitar

Wilbur took a while to settle into the routine. He was always a bit confused as to why Phil didn’t yell or always reek of alcohol or hit him for one reason or another, but the change certainly wasn’t unwelcome. Wilbur had come from a variety of houses, all of which were like walking on eggshells living in. He still had yet to get in trouble, which was beyond strange.

In one of his houses, speaking without being prompted to do so meant being locked in a small closet for a handful of hours. He’d interrupted a conversation once, only to get a solid right hook to the jaw. That was never an issue with Phil and Techno, though. He was always encouraged to speak more, and when he’d interrupted a conversation there were no consequences.

They also didn’t seem to mind when he was around. He was quite tall, even in comparison to most adults, so it was hard to not be noticed often. He naturally walked with no noise and stuck to the walls in order not to upset anyone or give any reason for aggression to be taken out on him. Oddly, though, it seemed like Phil and Techno enjoyed his presence, inviting him to watch TV with them or go grocery shopping or whatnot.

After many months of slowly adjusting to not being on edge every second, Wilbur had off-handedly mentioned how he enjoyed guitar. 

One of his old foster families had a biological kid that liked music quite a lot, and liked him enough to let him partake in the hobby. He’d latched on to one of the old guitars, dented and significantly beaten up, but perfect in Wilbur’s eyes. Whenever he had free time, he was learning guitar, borrowing old books his foster sibling had. His fingers were beat to hell constantly from the hours he spent practicing the instrument.

When that family had sent him away after he’d become too much of a financial burden, despite paying for almost everything himself with money he got from under-the-table odd jobs he worked, his foster sibling had given him that guitar. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it sobbed. He’d never gotten much from any of his houses, much less something so precious to him.

He cherished that guitar like it was his baby, almost never letting it out of his sight at his new home. It was an elderly woman who turned a blind eye to all of the chaos the seven boys she was fostering would perform. Wilbur, being new and lanky and not the stereotypical ‘manly man’, got the brunt of their bullying. As childish as it seemed, they made him do their homework and would tease him for this, that, and the other thing. Hell, even their punches and kicks didn’t bother him that much. He’d had worse at previous homes.

They hadn’t done anything that he couldn’t handle until one night he was dragged out of bed by the beefiest of his foster brothers, and forcefully shuffled into the backyard. It was freezing out and he was not wearing nearly warm enough clothes for the weather. That didn’t matter much, though, when he saw his guitar in the hands of the worst of the brothers, He watched as it was thrown to the ground, the strings making an awful sound, and doused in lighter fluid. A match was dropped on top of it, setting his most meaningful item ablaze. The boys all laughed and any interest in being strong was dropped as Wilbur sank in his foster brother’s grasp and let out a sob. Eventually, they all meandered inside, locking him out of the house, leaving him shivering and shaking as he saw his guitar become only ashes and metal strings.

He still thinks that that was probably the worst day of his life.

The weekend after he’d mentioned his love of the instrument to Phil was the best day of his life. The family took a trip to the mall. Wilbur had been told it was because they all needed better winter clothes, which was true, but not entirely what the trip was for.

When Phil turned right into the music store, Wilbur froze. Phil beckoned him forward with a smile on his face, and Techno gave him a gentle push through the entrance.

That day, Phil bought him a brand new guitar, one with a case and no dents and new strings and a few books of music from movies they’d watched as a family, and Wilbur felt a bit embarrassed to have cried all the way back to the car, clutching his newest and most precious possession in his arms.

The guitar wasn’t what made the day so special, though. What made it truly the best day was when they all sat in the living room, Techno and Phil on one loveseat and Wilbur and his guitar on the other. Techno was smirking, and Phil was full-on smiling. Wilbur looked at them in confusion, before Phil gave the proposition.

“How would you feel about becoming a family, permanently?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey boys, thanks for reading! Two chapters in one day? Someone is feeling productive, hahah. Anyway, let me know what you think so far if you'd like to!


	5. Round Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another child enters the ring

Phil, Wilbur and Techno lived with each other for a long while in comfort. It was around three years before Phil got another call from the agency. He’d taken his number from the roster a while ago, being very content with his two sons, but it seemed this was a desperate enough situation for his name to have been brought up again. He got a bit more notice this time around, having a few days before he needed to make a decision, which was highly appreciated.

The kid the call was about was labeled a ‘problem child’, which did somewhat piss off Phil. Hell, Wilbur had been labeled with the same moniker, and he’d only been a ‘problem’ due to highly reasonable trust issues. The child in question was twelve years old, and apparently, his longest stay at a single home was three months. He was hostile, hyperactive, and didn’t listen to authority.

There was something about his description that had Phil dying to meet him. Something didn’t add up in his mind. Kids didn’t lash out for no reason.

After a family discussion over their mutual favorite Chinese take-out place, they all figured there was no harm in meeting the child. Techno was a bit more wary this time around, being very content with having a brother already, but Wilbur seemed far too curious for him to say no. This kid’s situation hit a little too close to home for Wilbur, with his own stay in the system having had a similar timeline.

The day started off much earlier than Techno and Wilbur were used to. Phil was naturally a bit more of a morning person, waking up at around 8 on average. Techno had a wild sleep schedule, to the point where Phil wasn’t exactly sure when he was sleeping or awake, and Wilbur tended to wake up a little past noon at the earliest. The two boys were in online school after enough complaints and Wilbur coming home with a broken nose, only to have Techno come home with bloody knuckles after seeking revenge on behalf of his older brother, so it didn’t really matter when they woke up.

It was seven when Phil woke up Techno and Wilbur, only to have them both stumbling down the stairs about a half an hour later, taking a seat at the table. Wilbur was rubbing his eyes and Techno was staring intently at the syrup bottle as Phil served chocolate chip pancakes for everyone. Wilbur dumped a half on a container of powdered sugar on his stack, and Phil slathered his own in butter and syrup. Techno, the anarchist he was, left his plain.

“Couldn’t we have met him in the afternoon?” Wilbur complained with a yawn at the end. Phil knew he was more tired than normal, as he snuck out last night. He wasn’t supposed to know, of course, but Wilbur’s friend Niki had texted him. They were all hanging out in a friend, Schlatt’s, basement, just being kids. She wasn’t comfortable with Phil not knowing where he was, and he trusted both his son and Niki enough for them to not get in too much trouble.

“Unfortunately, no. They wanted us to meet him in the morning, for some reason.”

The rest of breakfast was eaten in silence, Techno zoning out at random spots practically the entire time and Wilbur yawning loudly. They all made their way to their rooms at some point, dressing into something ‘a bit respectable’, as Phil had put it, knowing Techno would try and wear pajama pants if he didn’t specify.

The trip to the house they were set to meet the boy in took even longer than the trip to get Wilbur that first night. It was about three hours to drive out there. The first hour was spent with Techno and Wilbur both drifting in and out of sleep, each drinking a RedBull during their periods of consciousness. By the second hour, the caffeine had kicked in. Wilbur was practically bouncing off the walls, playing his obscure indie music far too loud and trying to wrestle Techno for the Runts he’d packed. Techno was acting as he normally did, just less prone to dozing off in the middle of a sentence. By the third hour, they were all antsy. Even Phil was itching to get out of the car and stretch his legs. Arrival at the front door couldn’t have come soon enough.

The father and his two sons sat at a desk, Wilbur and Techno sitting on the same chair considering the room only had two. They were trying to gain more room, playfully shoving at each other as Phil held his head in his hands with exasperation when the door finally opened.

There was a woman, who was definitely the caretaker, and the boy, Tommy. He was about as lanky as Wilbur was, probably a few inches shorter, though. He was hunched over with his arms crossed on his chest. He had bright blue eyes and fluffy blonde hair, and his face was in the form of a scowl. The two took the seats across from them. Techno took this as his opportunity to shove Wilbur off the chair, leaving him to catch himself with his hands landing on Phil. Phil was about to give his sons the ‘dad glare’, but he noticed Tommy trying not to smirk at their antics.

Phil and the caretaker shook hands with a cordial smile. “I’m Phil, and these are my sons, Wilbur and Techno,” he introduced, motioning to everyone.

“What kind of shit name is Techno?” Tommy asked, leaving the woman appearing horrified and Wilbur doubling over with laughter.

“Tommy!” she scolded, then turned to Techno, “I am so sorry about his behavior, he usually doesn’t act like this.” Tommy rolled his eyes at the comment, saying something under his breath that was too quiet for any of them to actually hear.

The conversation went routinely from there, Tommy talking like he was reading off a script about his favorite things, and then going through his file. Phil made a conscious effort to try and include Tommy into the discussion, considering it was about him and the woman was acting like he wasn’t there. Wilbur and Techno had stopped trying to shove each other off of the chair, leaving Wilbur actually paying attention to the conversation, and Techno staring at Tommy, analyzing him. Occasionally, Tommy would enter a quip into the conversation that left his caretaker glaring at him and the other side of the table fighting back laughter - except Wilbur, who made no effort to resist the urge.

Once the meeting was over, Tommy and the woman left the room, leaving the three to discuss.

“He bullied Techno, I love him,” Wilbur said almost immediately, getting an elbow to the ribs from his brother.

“I think he could fit in with all of us,” Phil stated, leaving Techno.

He sat for a bit longer, and you could see the gears working in his head. After a few minutes, he said, “I’m okay with him.” As hesitant as it’d sound to other people, the family knew that he was genuinely on board. Phil left the room to discuss the legal bit and give their final decision, and Tommy went to socialize with his new siblings.

When Phil came back to gather his boys, he saw Tommy and Techno arm wrestling, with Wilbur chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!”. Tommy had both arms in play, while Techno lazily looked at his attempts to move him. Phil rolled his eyes and herded them into the car, overhearing Tommy tell Wilbur something about how he was a “big man”.

Yeah, they could definitely become a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy time Tommy time eyyyy
> 
> Also three chapters in one day? Wack. There might be a few more soon as there's a character I have ideas for and am hype about so... be prepared?
> 
> Anyway, lmk what you think please!!!


	6. Fist Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy can't help but play hero

It was one week into his stay, and Tommy was already getting nervous. He hadn’t unpacked a single thing, electing to keep all of his items in his shitty backpack. Hell, he didn’t even sleep on the bed in ‘his’ room. He figured it’d be easier if he didn’t screw up the sheets when they inevitably sent him back.

At this point, though, he’d usually have an inkling of how long his stay would be. Patience would’ve already started to wear thin, as he was a lot to handle. He’d  _ at least  _ gotten yelled at once, or have a taste of the average punishment in the house. But there was nothing. Phil never raised his voice in anger, and his foster brothers only did it in jest.

The first time Tommy was almost positive he’d get his ass kicked in the house, he was sitting in the office with a shitty ice pack held up against his nose. With a few pokes, he could tell it wasn’t broken, just hurt. He wasn’t alone, though, being sat in between two other kids. The one on his left was wringing his hands together, looking nervous, a black eye forming on his face. Other than that, he wasn’t injured whatsoever - Tommy had made sure of it. The kid on his right was sporting similar injuries to Tommy, with knuckles busted and lips split and a few other miscellaneous injuries. Tommy and the other kid were occasionally shooting glares in each other’s direction, having been the two to actually fight.

Tommy couldn’t help but try and play the fucking hero.

He overheard the secretary calling parents, starting with the kid on his left. Her voice was soft with his parents, saying something about how “Tubbo needed to be picked up again.” She kept sending sympathetic glances in the boy’s, Tubbo’s, direction. The ‘again’ almost made Tommy want to re-start the battle from earlier, feeling his blood boil.

Her voice was also sweet with the kid on the right’s parents. Of course it was, he’d immediately played victim in front of the principal and Tommy’s defense was immediately dismissed, considering he was the ‘problem child’. Not even Tubbo’s vouch was worth anything. He zoned out through this call, considering he didn’t give a damn how the secretary would spin the story to make the asshole become a victim in the situation.

He tuned back in when it was his ‘parent’ being called. Of course, her tone was exasperated and angry, explaining how he’d “instigated a fight”, which was complete bullshit. He didn’t hear yelling coming from the other end of the phone, which was more nerve-wracking. The worst ones were the ones who held their anger until they got inside the house. They always caused the most damage.

Tommy spent the few minutes it took for Phil to arrive to come up with an escape plan. He mentally mapped how long it’d take to grab his backpack and make a pit-stop to the first aid kit in the bathroom. He was a bit stuck on where he’d go from there, but that was quickly settled when a finger tapped on his arm to his left. He met Tubbo’s gaze, and Tubbo gave his thanks and wrote his phone number on Tommy’s arm in a purple marker, saying to call if he needed anything.

Well, that was definitely going to come in handy. He knew he had enough money to pick up a burner phone from a gas station.

Trying to work out the intricacies of his plan was interrupted by Phil standing in front of him. He grabbed Tommy’s arm (not harshly or too tight, for some reason), and they both walked to Phil’s car. Tommy sat in the back seat, directly behind Phil’s so he could stare in the side mirror and try and gauge the man’s reaction. They drove home in silence, and neither party uttered a word as Phil gently led him into the living room, sitting him down on the couch, and going down the hallway. Tommy started to quickly look around, feeling like a cornered animal. Usually his ‘parent’ would just go fist-first. They didn’t need to  _ grab _ anything. Tommy lifted his school backpack into his lap, knowing there were textbooks in there that could block damage to his chest and stomach. 

What he didn’t expect was for Phil to come back with the first aid kit. He took off the shoddily-done dressings from the nurse, who spent all of her good care on the other two boys, and began to redo them. Tommy was tense, could feel his arms shaking slightly, and was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Can you please tell me what happened?” Phil gently asked as he applied disinfecting cream to his knuckles. Tommy flinched, not expecting him to talk, and Phil let go for a moment, holding his hands in front of him in the universal ‘I’m not dangerous’ motion.

That was odd. No one had ever asked  _ why  _ he’d gotten into a fistfight. Tommy figured he should use this chance to try and make his case. It’d probably be the same outcome, but at least he’d tried.

“Basically I went to go to the bathroom, and saw this asshat saying mean shit to this other kid, calling him the f-slur and stuff, and then he threw a punch and I couldn’t just watch the kid get beat up and not defend himself. So I told him to fuck off and he tried to go after me and then I fought back and here we are,” Tommy spit out in a single breath. Despite going so fast, Phil seemed to take in every word, and only gave a slight nod in response. The man resumed in bandaging his injuries, quickly assessing him for a concussion, and then asking if there were any more injuries. Tommy figured it wouldn’t be worth mentioning the bruises on his stomach, and shook his head. Phil nodded again, and gently knelt in front of Tommy. Tommy wrung his hands together and refused to make eye contact, realizing that this was when the punishment would start. Heal him so he could start at square one.

“I obviously wish you hadn’t got hurt,” Phil began, surprising Tommy enough to make eye contact with him, one eyebrow cocked in confusion. “I never will encourage violence of any sort, and my preference will always be for you to solve issues with words.” The man let out a sigh, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully. Tommy was still in a state of minor shock, when his whole world was rocked.

“That being said, you stood up for someone when you didn’t need to. For that, I can’t help but be proud of you.”

Tommy let out a choked sob, which sent Phil immediately asking if he could hug him. Tommy nodded, trying to fight back the tears and still his shaking form. Phil wasn’t going to hurt him. Phil wasn’t going to kick him out. Phil wasn’t going to make him sleep outside for a night or destroy something he owned.

Phil was proud of him. Phil said he was proud of him.  _ Phil said he was proud of him. _

No one had ever said those words to him.

They sat in silence for a while, before Phil gathered the family together for a movie night. Wilbur shot Tommy a concerned look at seeing his injuries and the fact that he had been obviously crying, and Techno simply looked pissed about his younger  foster brother being hurt. They all packed onto the couch, Tommy still being held in Phil’s  _ safe _ arms, and watched movies until they all eventually needed to go to bed.

That was the first night Tommy slept in his actual bed. He’d never felt so safe in a place before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a n o t h e r one. The introduction of Tubbo!  
> This marks the end of all of the intro chapters, and we'll start entering into actual book things. Yay!
> 
> Once again, please let me know what you're thinking so far! Thanks champs :-)  
> Also, not to get sappy, but I'm proud of you all!


	7. The Sibling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eret joins the ranks

Tubbo was a regular at the Craft house. Tommy and him had become quickly attached at the hip, both being a bit too clingy for their own good, even more so after Tommy had been legally adopted a few months into his stay. Phil would often have him over for dinner, and pack up leftovers for him to take with and have at a later date. Tubbo became an extension to the family, an un-official son of sorts. 

It was one of those dinners - homemade lasagna and cooked vegetables, to be exact - where Tubbo revealed to the entire family that he didn’t live with his parents. It wasn’t a secret, by any means, it had just never come up in conversation. Tommy had known from early on in the friendship, but the rest of his family was in the dark on that tidbit of information.

Tubbo lived with his older sibling, Eret, who was a senior in highschool along with Wilbur. Their parents had died in a high-speed car accident, leaving Tubbo in Eret’s care. Thankfully, their parents weren’t lacking in money and left a hefty enough inheritance to where Eret only needed a part-time job to support the both of them.

When Phil discovered this, he practically immediately invited Eret for dinner. Feeding one extra person was no issue, and it was objectively stupid to leave the teen to eat by themself when Tubbo had been over. Plus, Wilbur and Eret shared a math class together and he claimed that Eret seemed like a good person. Hell, they had to be if they came from the same family as Tubbo.

After double-checking with Tubbo that Eret didn’t have any allergies or dietary requirements, Phil decided to have Eret’s first dinner at the Craft’s be a specialty. Phil chose what he knew to be one of his best recipes - garlic chicken and vegetables. He wanted to impress, if he was honest. For some reason, Phil wanted Eret to like him. Phil’s fatherly instinct and tendency to claim children had already been put into action with the kid, and he had yet to even meet them.

Eret and Tubbo had decided to drive to the Craft house. They lived a bit too far away to walk, even if the weather was still wildly pleasant for autumn. They loaded into Eret’s old beat-up car they’d gotten from their uncle a few years ago. Eret wished walking was an option, as they’d had a bit extra time to prepare. They hadn’t been to anyone’s house besides their own in a long while, and wanted to leave a good impression on the family of Tubbo’s best friend. They’d seen how much happier their younger brother was after having Tommy enter his life, and Eret did not want to screw that up. 

For a bit more of a selfish reason, they did not want to lose the leftovers that they always stole from Tubbo. Phil’s cooking was fantastic, even reheated the next day.

Sooner than they’d prefer, Eret and Tubbo were at their destination. With a deep breath and a re-adjusting of their sweater, Eret knocked at the door. They ignored Tubbo saying how they could just let themselves in in preference of being polite.

Tommy answered the door, shouting “they’re here!” to the other residents of the house. Tubbo busted past their sibling to immediately run off with Tommy, leaving Eret standing awkwardly on the front porch. They walked in just enough to take off their shoes and close the door to preserve heat, then waited in the entranceway for instructions on what to do next. They weren’t quite sure if it’d be impolite to just waltz into the main portion of the house.

God, it  _ had _ been a while since they’d been anywhere new.

Thankfully, Wilbur eventually retrieved them and brought them into the kitchen, where the rest of the family was. The room was cozy, with paneled walls and soft lighting. Phil was at the oven, working on the source of that mouth-watering smell floating around, and Tommy’s other brother, Techno, was scrolling on his phone at the breakfast bar. Tommy and Tubbo were animatedly talking at the dinner table, occasionally scribbling something into a notebook. Plotting something, Eret assumed. When they were together, the two of them were beings of pure chaos.

Eventually, Phil wandered over and introduced himself, shaking hands with the teen. Eret made sure to make eye contact, following all of the manners they were taught as a child. Phil gave them a warm smile, settling the teen’s nerves ever so slightly. After a bit of small talk, Phil needed to finish up the meal and both Eret and Wilbur made their way over to their brothers. Wilbur ruffled Tommy’s hair as they passed, leaving Tommy swatting at his hand and shouting expletives.

After a few minutes of the two eldest bullying their younger siblings and Wilbur complaining about their shared “sadistic bitch of a math teacher”, Techno meandered his way to the table, and Phil began to serve food. Eret shot up, wanting to assist the man, but Phil motioned for them to sit back down.

Being used to having the practically gourmet meals that had been nuked in the microwave the next day, having the fresh thing in front of them left Eret’s mouth genuinely watering. They waited to begin eating, not sure if the family did any prayers or anything (Tommy had never struck them as religious when he’d been over, but you could never be too safe), but then Tommy started to practically devour the chicken and Eret dug in themself.

Phil did not disappoint.

The chicken was perfect, seasoned to perfection, and Eret didn’t think they’d ever had vegetables that delicious. It sounded ridiculous, they knew, but something about Phil’s cooking made it so that a stale piece of bread would probably be a five-star dish. The conversation was pleasant, even when Tommy and Wilbur started trying to stab each other with their forks, and Eret forgot how a nuclear family talked. Eret was used to maybe one family dinner a week, as the two siblings were both busy highschoolers with fluctuating schedules.

This normalcy was something that Eret hoped might be repeated. At the very least, they were glad that Tubbo got experiences like this.

Phil had not been wrong in his assumption that Eret was a good kid. He wished they’d loosened up a bit more, considering they were nervously tapping their fingers on their leg the entire time they were there, but he couldn’t fault them for that. As Eret and Tubbo drove off and Wilbur helped him with dishes, they resolved to include Tubbo’s sibling in family events more often. Wilbur genuinely enjoyed Eret’s company, more than he was expecting if he was honest, and Phil couldn’t complain about their presence. 

Every Thursday night, a guaranteed day-off at Eret’s job, both of the siblings were invited over for dinner. It became a regular thing, and Eret charmed their way into Phil’s roster of children with ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang! Sorry for the late update, school is metaphorically punching me in the face. Let me know what you think of this chapter and having the perspective be someone outside of the Sleepy Bois. I think I might continue, introducing the others in a similar fashion while still having it be revolving around the Sleepy Bois, but I'd love your input!
> 
> Thanks again champs!


	8. Guitar Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur was a bit unprepared for the new student

Wilbur sat in the back of his math class, discussing another one of Tubbo and Tommy’s antics with Eret. It wasn’t either of their assigned seats, but the teacher never called them out on it. The day was about as well as it could be, considering it was math class, until the teacher announced a new student.

Wilbur froze, staring at the figure awkwardly standing at the front. His breathing became shallower, and he distantly registered Eret grabbing his hand and rhythmically squeezing it. Wilbur should’ve been a bit more prepared for this situation, as there wasn’t exactly another school close to the area, but the possibility of this happening hadn’t even crossed his mind.

The teacher’s voice sounded like it was underwater as she introduced the boy at the front. He was standing there, clutching a textbook in between his hands.

The only thing Wilbur saw, though, was him holding a beat-up guitar and a box of matches, and suddenly Wilbur was back to being an underfed fifteen year old littered with bruises.

Wilbur tracked him with his eyes and baited breath, waiting for him to sit down at, thankfully, the opposite end of the room. Without any hesitation, Wilbur stood up and bolted. He registered panicked shouting behind him, and footsteps trying to chase him (it was probably Eret, but it also could be  _ him _ ).

More yells began as Wilbur ran through the front entrance of the school, eyes wide in obvious panic. In the back of his mind, he was fully aware that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen as the edges of his vision were turning black, but he couldn’t just  _ stop _ .

God, why was he there?

Wilbur’s legs felt like gelatin when he darted into an old park, thankfully empty considering it was the middle of the school day. Parents never took their toddlers there, as the playground equipment was probably some sort of public safety hazard. Usually, it was populated by teens with stolen vodka bottles and poorly made joints, but no such individual could be found.

Wilbur threw his back against the trunk of a tree, so he couldn’t be attacked from behind. He was tense, eyes darting around like a trapped animal. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? Nothing more than a rabbit being hunted by a wolf.

At that exact moment, he realized he hadn’t grabbed his backpack. In a mad dash to leave, he stupidly left the thing, which housed his phone and every other form of communication he had. He was completely alone with no way to call for help.

Eventually, his shallow breathing and panic took its toll, and he didn’t even register that he was passing out.

When Phil received the call from the school and a handful of frantic texts from Eret, he dropped everything he was doing and sprinted to his car, last-minute remembering to grab the keys and a pair of slides. The office secretary had sounded far too calm and didn’t have nearly enough of the details when explaining that Wilbur had run from the school and was now, essentially, missing. The holes in the story were filled with Eret’s messages which were misspelled ramblings about a new student and an anxiety attack.

Something happened and now his eldest son was missing.

He drove to the school first. As much as he wanted to immediately prowl the streets, he needed information. Where he ran off too was entirely dependent on why he ran to begin with.

When he walked into the office, Eret was waiting for him, rapidly stomping their foot on the floor as a nervous habit. The individual Phil recognized as his son’s math teacher and the principal were also there. Phil stayed standing, internally deciding that sitting down was wasting time.

“What happened?” Phil asked, spending no time on pleasantries. Eret opened their mouth to reply, but was beaten by the teacher.

“Wilbur ran out of the classroom, to go cause trouble no doubt. He never was the most reliable of students.”

Phil was a true pacifist at heart, always wanting to solve issues in a non-violent manner. Despite this, he’d never felt so compelled to punch someone.

Eret looked similarly, and despite being so well-mannered in every interaction they’d had with Phil, they immediately piped in, “You know that’s a lie. Something about the new student spooked him, and you’re using it as evidence for whatever vendetta you have against him. If you opened your eyes, maybe you’d have noticed how he was basically hyperventilating.”

Despite knowing they’d probably get in trouble, Eret looked the teacher in the eyes. They’d never looked so confident in talking back, and Phil was proud of his pseudo-child. Eret, electing to ignore the faculty in the room, turned to address Phil only. “I think Wilbur recognized the new student, and it sent him panicking. He looked cornered.”

Phil nodded his head, saying thanks for the meeting and bolting back to his car. He’d text Eret later, inviting them to dinner and helping handle whatever consequences they’d face for calling out their teacher in such a manner.

For now, Phil made a mental list of places Wilbur would’ve gone. He knew Wilbur’s flight tactics when panicked, and drove along the path he’d assumed his son would take - heading in the direction of home, avoiding all the main streets, and taking a wide berth from the local police station near the school.

After a bit of driving, Phil ran across the abandoned park. It was hidden behind an overgrown path, and he knew it’d probably be empty at this time. He also was aware that in the state Eret described Wilbur being in, he would’ve tired out at around this point. As mentioned, this wasn’t Phil’s first rodeo with a panicked Wilbur. He quickly parked his car in a way that was almost guaranteed to be illegal, and ran down the path.

There, by a tree on the outskirts of the playground, sat his son. His back was against the tree, posture ramrod straight, and tense from head to toe. His chest was rising in a bit more of a routine manner, which Phil was glad for, but his eyes were darting around, looking for danger near him. It was strangely reminiscent of the first night when Wilbur was brought home.

Phil announced his presence, shouting “Wilbur!” before making his way to his son. Wilbur caught his eye, and once seeing who it was, melted against the tree.

“Dad…” he muttered out, voice sounding broken. Phil picked up his pace, knelt down, and held his son in a warm and protective hug. Wilbur immediately started sobbing, shaking in his grasp.

They sat for around ten minutes in complete silence other than Wilbur’s shaky breath and occasionally croaked out sob, Phil still clutching the boy.

Phil had never seen Wilbur look this completely destroyed before.

They drove home in silence, Phil shooting Eret a quick text so they knew that he’d been found, and guided Wilbur to the couch. Making a mug of hot chocolate for his son, he re-entered the living room to see that Wilbur had already burrowed himself into a mound of blankets.

With a hoarse voice and each sentence punctuated with a small whimper, Wilbur explained the destruction of his first guitar to Phil, and how the new student was the one who’d lit the match.

Wilbur didn’t go to school the next three days as the school scrambled to figure out how to schedule Wilbur’s old foster brother in a way to where they wouldn’t cross paths at all throughout the day. Wilbur clung to Phil’s side much more often than what was normal, and Phil’s protective instinct kicked in. They had family movie nights every evening that week, his brothers letting Wilbur choose every time. On multiple occasions, Eret and Tubbo joined, Eret clutching Wilbur’s hand in a similar manner to what they’d done earlier in the week. Soft physical contact, and a tangible reminder that they were there for him.

Wilbur knew that, no matter what happened, his family would build him back up when he was torn down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> First off, I want to say how much I absolutely appreciate the comments. You all are far too kind, and I read every one of them, I swear. Thank you for all the well wishes with school as well!  
> Alright, also more angst time! hahah.   
> Let me know what y'all think, and know that I appreciate, from the bottom of my heart, everyone who takes the time to read this. It means a lot to me :-)
> 
> Once again, thanks! New chapter probably soon, considering I'm already halfway through it if I'm honest, hahah


	9. Grumpy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another addition to the cast of characters

Wilbur had been making his way to gym class. That was the one class of the day in which his friends were unable to walk him to class. Ever since “the incident”, the small group of Eret, Schlatt, Niki and himself had become wildly protective. Each one would usually walk him to class, clinging to his side. Eret would always hold his hand gently, whereas Schlatt would glare at everyone they walked past, and Niki would just stick directly onto his right. 

Having his friends close by always made him feel safe, which was why he was always jumpy on the way to gym. He knew that  _ his _ class should be upstairs and on the other end of the school, but Wilbur always felt as though he’d be waiting for him around every corner.

Unfortunately, this time he happened to be accurate in his wariness.

“Oh, Wilbur!” a voice mockingly called down the hallway. It sounded the exact same, and he could almost hear the boy laughing as Wilbur collapsed into the grass.

_ You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,  _ Wilbur thought, clutching his backpack straps in order to stop shaking, and speeding up. He was so close to the gym, he just needed to get there.

His breath, which had been speeding up rapidly, caught in his throat when he felt a hand grab his shoulder. Wilbur spun around and backed up in a blind panic, only to see a random sophomore standing there. The sophomore held his hand out, and motioned for Wilbur to follow him into a secluded hallway. Wilbur, panic momentarily forgotten and curiosity peaked, followed.

Said sophomore was named Fundy, if Wilbur could remember correctly. Despite being the same age as Techno, the boy was rumored to be a computer prodigy and ended up in the senior level technology class. Fundy was short - well, average height, but everyone was short when compared to Wilbur - and had a grumpy look on his face. His hair was a bright ginger with the occasional streak of white, and he wore an oversized orange hoodie. The younger motioned out of the hallway before asking “was that guy bothering you?”

Wilbur nodded, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Fundy’s grumpy look changed into one of determination, and he motioned for Wilbur to follow him again. Wilbur obliged, frankly curious to see where this was headed. It was almost as if he’d forgotten why he was afraid, nerves washed out by wonder in the way this skinny kid was stomping up to the source of Wilbur’s nightmares. Wilbur watched from the sidelines, staying near the entrance to the hallway, as Fundy tapped on  _ his _ shoulder, and promptly punched him in the face as he turned around. Wilbur blinked in surprise as Fundy wandered back to him as if nothing had just happened. The elder’s face cracked into a smile as Fundy clapped on his shoulder and escorted him to the gym. Without a word, Fundy deposited Wilbur at the locker room entrance and darted off to his own class.

_ What the fuck just happened? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Sorry for the mini chapter - it felt necessary for plot, but I hate posting something so short. I plan on posting at least one more chapter today, so hopefully that makes up for it :-)
> 
> Also, shout-out to the arsonists in the comments section. The amount of serotonin I receive from these specific comments is astronomical. Of course, all the comments warm my heart, but oh my god y'all are so chaotic and I love it.  
> Thanks for everyone sticking with me so far, and thanks for reading :-)


	10. Grumpy pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fundy's perspective

Fundy had  _ planned  _ on it being the average school day. He woke up, taking a couple of painkillers considering he accidentally fell asleep in his binder again and his ribs were painfully throbbing, and getting dressed in the usual hoodie-jogger combo. He grabbed a plain piece of bread for breakfast, double-checked to make sure that the science homework Techno let him copy was in his bag, and set off.

The first few hours were as boring as always. He didn’t really concern himself with friends, mostly waiting to blow the suburban area for either a bigger city or a cottage-core lifestyle. Either way, not where he was at. He ended up falling asleep in the middle of science (which was probably contributing to how badly he was failing), but other than that it was a very monotonous day.

That all changed when he was walking his way to fourth hour. He’d been mostly staring down at the grout in the frankly disgusting tile floor when he was nearly knocked over by a lanky figure speed walking past him. He was about to say something snarky when he heard a mocking call of ‘ _ Oh, Wilbur! _ ’’ from down the hallway.

There was only one Wilbur he knew, and that was Techno’s brother.

Fundy wouldn’t necessarily call Techno a ‘friend’. A more accurate term would be ‘ally’. Their social interaction consisted of sliding each other the homework the other didn’t get or, frankly, didn’t feel like doing. Techno excelled in the subjects that were Fundy’s downfall, and vice-versa. Despite this, Fundy did feel a bit of loyalty towards the boy. He’d insist it was only due to him not failing at least three classes due to the pink-haired teen’s help, but there was a small part of him that knew Techno was the closest thing to a friend he had and he was incredibly lonely.

Noticing that Techno’s beloved older brother was in trouble, Fundy decided to take matters into his own hands. Acting on instinct, he grabbed the elder’s shoulder. Wilbur spun around in a blind panic, causing Fundy to internally scream at his mistake, and motioned for the senior to follow him. He led Wilbur down a small hallway which genuinely had no purpose, and asked if the guy who’d called after him was bothering him. Of course, Fundy knew the answer. He just wanted that extra bit of confirmation. Wilbur nodded, quirking an eyebrow up in question, before Fundy motioned for the taller boy to follow him.

Fundy subtly cracked his knuckles as he approached the tall kid who was milling about in the hallway. He clenched his right fist, tapping on the other’s shoulder with his left. The kid whipped around and Fundy responded with as strong of a punch as he could muster. He was, admittedly, a bit of a weakling, but he knew that any hit to the nose would hurt like hell. Without any pomp and circumstance, Fundy turned back towards Wilbur. He had to suppress a chuckle as Wilbur blinked at him, mouth gaping open like a fish. 

Fundy escorted him to the gym, before heading off to his own class.

Fundy was sitting in his usual lunch spot, which just so happened to be on the floor in another useless hallway (seriously, Fundy would like to sit down and have a long chat with whoever designed the school). He was usually left alone, leaving him to listen to music and work on classwork or other personal coding projects while he ate. Unlike usual, though, there was a tap on his shoulder. He ripped out his earbuds, already preparing a glare, when he noticed a sheepish looking Wilbur staring down at him.

“Would you, uh, like to sit with my friends and I?” the taller asked, avoiding eye contact. Against his better judgment, Fundy shrugged, gathered his things and followed Wilbur to the obnoxiously loud cafeteria. He was guided to a table in the back corner, away from most of the crowd, and claimed a seat. Niki, a junior in his culinary class, greeted him with a small wave before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. The ‘matter at hand’ just so happened to be Eret attempting to stop Schlatt from snorting lemonade powder off of the table.

_ Who knows?  _ Fundy thought,  _ maybe I could give friends a try. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey party people! Sorry for the shorter chapter and radio silence, I'm addressing that below. First off, thank you so much for reading and sticking around!
> 
> So 1. I'm incredibly sorry for not updating. My mental health decided to switch things up on me and I genuinely didn't have any energy. I plan to update more regularly again, but just so you know
> 
> 2\. Holy hell, thank you for the engagement. When I started this, I thought *maybe* two or three other people would like it. I never expected 1000+ kudos. It's honestly crazy, and I'm super grateful and glad that you like it.
> 
> 3\. So general direction for this story - it seems to be shaping up to a bunch of interconnected one-shots with sort of mini over-arching plots, just as a heads up :-)
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think :-)


	11. Fallen Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets patched up by Techno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from undertale ost
> 
> \-----
> 
> Paragraph with strikethrough text will be in endnotes with brackets used instead of strikethrough, for ease of reading if need be :-)

Phil had never been the type of person to pry into people’s pasts. In his eyes, the most important parts of a person were who they wore at the present, not necessarily what led them there. Of course, he was more than willing to lend an ear if someone wanted to talk, and would latch on to any tidbit of information he was given, but he’d never ask first. Sure, it’d make helping to deal with another’s trauma easier and would help to fill in the blanks of storylines Phil assumed of others, but he valued respecting others personal privacy more than satiating his own curiosity,

Techno was entirely content with that arrangement. Phil didn’t know ~~that he’d been kept in a poor excuse for a barn, sharing space with a small handful of pigs who were his only friends; that the only positive human interactions he had were with a single random ranch hand who was kind enough to teach him basic knowledge like reading and writing but not kind enough to report the abuse, and the only other human interactions he had were with the people who gave birth to him when they decided they wanted a kid-shaped punching bag~~ where he’d come from, nor how ~~once he ran, he hitchhiked as far as he could get before eventually leaping out of a moving vehicle in the middle of nowhere when one of the people who picked him up decided that they weren’t going to let him go, leaving him to wander through snow drifts for a full day until he stumbled upon the cottage~~ he’d ended up in his shed. Techno was the textbook definition of a private individual, and he preferred to keep it that way. If he’d panic or have some sort of other response to stimuli that couldn’t just be explained away by a personality quirk, he’d tend to leave Phil in the dark or give him the bare minimum of reasoning. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the man - in fact, the _only_ people he trusted were his brothers and his father - but rather that he didn’t want to think enough about the circumstances prior to Phil finding him long enough to recount it to someone else.

Thankfully, Wilbur tended to be a bit more of an open book (at least around family). His face displayed every emotion he was feeling, and throughout the years, he’d filled the entire houseloud in on his past. He was a natural storyteller, and tales of his previous homes were often used as material - the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

Although he’d never tell it to his face, Techno viewed Wilbur as someone who he needed to protect, despite being the younger brother. Wilbur needed a friend who wouldn’t bail on him the moment a threat was presented, and Techno vowed to be that for him. What Wilbur had in height, Techno had in brute strength. What Wilbur had in the ability to be emotionally vulnerable, Techno had in stoicism. What Wilbur had in feeling-charge decisions, Techno had in logic.

Techno saw Wilbur as what he’d proved to be time and time again - a target for anyone with intentions to hurt someone who represented the good in the world.

That’s why, when Wilbur’s old foster brother (the word ‘brother’ felt vile to use in this context) moved into the same school as them and immediately decided to torment the eldest Craft child, Techno immediately stepped up to the plate. He wanted to portray himself as as threatening of a figure as possible, _especially_ when he was around Wilbur. Despite only being able to verbally communicate with his family in private settings, he tried to use his silence to his advantage. Techno kept up his apathetic facade, and anyone who wasn’t known to have Wilbur’s best intentions at heart received a hard glare whenever they looked at him. His hope was to scare off anybody who could present as a danger.

While being extremely protective over Wilbur, Techno had forgotten to do the same for his younger brother. After all, Tommy had proven himself capable of defending himself time and time again - Techno was the person he usually went to to patch up his bruised fists and other injuries he’d sustain. Tommy was similar to Techno in that he didn’t share much of his past, but whatever he faced, he’d probably had to fight often. Injuries not caused from offensive attacks were few and far between, and when they were present, they were only mild.

When Tommy came stumbling back into the Craft house with a limp, bruised ribs and wounds sluggishly bleeding onto his clothes and the floor, Techno was caught off guard. He rushed to help Tommy with walking, depositing him on the living room couch.

“What happened?” Techno demanded.

“Got beat up,” Tommy responded. He smiled out of embarrassment, split upper lip letting blood drip onto his front teeth.

Some idiot was dumb enough to hurt Techno’s baby brother, and they’d get their just deserts if the middle child had anything to do about it.

Techno was, once again, in charge of patching up the youngest. Not to say that the other two members of the family wouldn’t help, it was simply that Techno was almost always home first, and Wilbur had guitar lessons after school and Phil was still at work.

He worked quickly but carefully, looking up to check on Tommy when he’d let out a hiss of pain as Techno maneuvered in a particularly tender area. Techno’s gaze hardened and a frown spread on his usually apathetic face when Tommy let him peek at his ribs. Nothing seemed to be broken, but the expanse of red and black bruises weren’t thrilling either. He moved on to finish the smaller wounds with antibacterial cream and a few band-aids. Everything else was treated with ice, a pile of blankets, a few episodes of a random cartoon Tommy had been begging to watch, and a mug of the disgusting mint hot chocolate the youngest loved. Techno and him shared the loveseat, and after a couple of episodes, Tommy ended up falling asleep on his brother’s shoulder.

After about an hour, give or take, of Tommy sleeping on Techno’s shoulder, the other two Craft members came home. They weren’t quiet in their arrival, Wilbur in the middle of telling Phil an animated story about something to do with Schlatt and Phil humming in response. They both fell into immediate silence, though, after seeing the scene in the living room, not noticing the state of his youngest brother, Wilbur immediately pulled out his phone and snapped a picture (Techno flipped off the camera with his free arm). Phil looked distressed, though, upon seeing the bandage on Tommy’s cheek and above his eyebrow. He didn’t know the full picture yet, as every other part of his son was buried in a few blankets.

Sensing the presence of new people in the room, Tommy blinked awake. He was greeted by his father’s kind smile, his oldest brother stifling a few giggles, and a pain in his cheek from where he’d fallen asleep on Techno’s bony shoulder. It warmed his heart that he’d stayed in the same place and just let him nap in what must’ve been an uncomfortable position for Techno to maintain. Even after years of living with his brothers and dad, the small and caring gestures they all did for each other (and him) still sometimes surprised Tommy. _Old ways of thinking die hard_ , he guessed.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Techno grumbled with a hint of fondness in his voice. He gently ruffled his hair, leaving Tommy to half-heartedly swat at his hand, more for keeping up appearances rather than getting him to actually stop. He elected to keep his head in its same position, even as his cheek became pins and needles. Techno didn’t seem overly bothered, either.

“Hi Dad… Wilby…” Tommy let out, interrupted by himself yawning.

Phil (and Wilbur, once he noticed) decided to let the story of his injuries remain a mystery for the time being. Instead, they both took off their jackets and squeezed into the loveseat, ending with Tommy still latched onto Techno’s side, Phil on the opposite side of Techno, and Wilbur laying himself across all three, feet buried under the couch cushions and hair being played with by his father. The oldest brother lazily moved the remote to turn on a true-crime documentary the four had started.

They’d have to re-watch it, though, as shortly the couch was filled only with the sounds of gentle snores and soft breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techno was entirely content with that arrangement. Phil didn’t know [that he’d been kept in a poor excuse for a barn, sharing space with a small handful of pigs who were his only friends; that the only positive human interactions he had were with a single random ranch hand who was kind enough to teach him basic knowledge like reading and writing but not kind enough to report the abuse, and the only other human interactions he had were with the people who gave birth to him when they decided they wanted a kid-shaped punching bag] where he’d come from, nor how [once he ran, he hitchhiked as far as he could get before eventually leaping out of a moving vehicle in the middle of nowhere when one of the people who picked him up decided that they weren’t going to let him go, leaving him to wander through snow drifts for a full day until he stumbled upon the cottage] he’d ended up in his shed. Techno was the textbook definition of a private individual, and he preferred to keep it that way. If he’d panic or have some sort of other response to stimuli that couldn’t just be explained away by a personality quirk, he’d tend to leave Phil in the dark or give him the bare minimum of reasoning. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the man - in fact, the only people he trusted were his brothers and his father - but rather that he didn’t want to think enough about the circumstances prior to Phil finding him long enough to recount it to someone else.
> 
> \-----
> 
> Woah, I haven't updated this in a year! Ahah, dad jokes.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I figured we all wanted some soft family fluff, or at least I did hahah. I've been taking the time to flesh out the characters more and try to keep them consistent, so I think I'll be updating more frequently. Sorry for the long break, y'all. I hope this made up for it a bit!
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading! Make sure to get some sleep :-)


	12. You Can't Get Through Them Unless You Get Through Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno seeks revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "family" by mother mother

Techno had spotted his target, unconsciously cracking his knuckles as he observed the scene. Three boys milled around in an empty park (it was connected to an elementary school, but tended to be unoccupied after hours). One was around average height - a bit on the shorter side, but not overly so - with tanned skin, shaggy black hair and comfortable but fashionable clothing. His features and body type were softer around the edges, and Techno couldn’t find any immediate muscle definition. Upon first glance, he seemed quite laid back, a soft chuckle on his face and a relaxed posture against a post.

Another was definitely on the short side, being both thin and petite as well. He had pale skin and dark brown hair laying neatly across his forehead. He was quiet in the conversation, mouth remaining unmoving while his head moved back and forth between the other two like he was watching a tennis match. He was the least threatening out of the three by far.

The last of the group was Techno’s person of interest. He was tall - taller than himself, but not quite reaching Wilbur’s height - with peach skin and mid-length blondish-brownish hair. His posture was relaxed, hands stuffed into the front pocket of a lime green hoodie and engaging in the conversation with the black-haired teen.

Perfect. Techno had the element of surprise.

After observing for what he deemed a reasonable amount of time, Techno sprung into action. Without any hesitation, he ran forward, running into the blond and pinning him against a slide.

“Woah, what the fuck?” the black-haired guy said, moving forward to help his friend. Techno shot him a quick glare, and he backed up with his hands in the air.  _ Not much of a fighter, then. _

Techno muttered out the line he’d been practicing since Tommy had given a description of his attacker. Despite only talking in the house usually, Techno needed to state why he was going to beat the shit out of this high schooler, and pulling out the small pink notepad to get his point across was far less intimidating than he needed to be in the moment.

“Tall, blond, looks like a prick, beat up my brother,” Techno grumbled out, maintaining eye contact with the man under him. 

The blond started looking around for a moment, before staring back. “What are you talking about?” Techno picked him up by his shoulders and slammed him back into the plastic slide. He had the  _ audacity _ to still look confused.

“Wait! Wait!” the brunet shouted, whipping out his phone and approaching Techno. Even a cold glare didn’t stop him from showing Techno a picture of another blond who looked quite similar to the one he was holding hostage on the playground equipment. “Are you Tommy’s brother? Dream didn’t beat him up, this’s his cousin!”

Techno frowned, letting the blond - Dream, apparently - go and pulling out his phone to take a picture. He quickly sent it to Tommy,  _ this him? _ , and the three dots popped up immediately.

_ No?!?! _

Well fuck.

Techno whipped out the small notebook he hadn’t wanted to use before, writing ‘sorry’ and handing it to Dream. To Techno’s surprise, he laughed.

“No worries, man. If someone had attacked my sister, I’d have a similar reaction. My cousin’s a bastard.”

Techno raised an eyebrow, and after seeing Dream’s amused smirk, he shrugged.

“Want to hang out with George, Sapnap, and I?” Dream asked, motioning to the brunet for the former and the black-haired for the latter, “As a ‘sorry one of my family members is a jerk’ apology? We were just going to get dinner.”

Against every ounce of better judgment, and a split-second decision that Techno would curse himself for making for the next few nights, he shrugged and nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini chapter go brrr. Dream Team intro also go brrr.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Just as a heads up, I do read every comment. I'm just a very awkward person and don't know how to interact lol. I appreciate every one though!!!
> 
> Stay hydrated :-))


	13. IMPORTANT

Hi all!

So, this is not a chapter. **PLEASE DON’T LEAVE YET**. For a TL;DR right away, **I am going to be re-writing this and posting it under the title “Growing Up”**. As you see this, the first chapter should already be posted. 

For those of you who want a bit more behind the reasoning, keep on reading. 

So, as you might’ve noticed, both the rate and quality of new chapters have declined in recent. That is due to a multitude of reasons and is something I aim to rectify by re-writing.

First off, the lack of planning on my end was the main de-motivator. I started off with a vague concept of how I wanted the first few chapters to go and decided to take off from there. Over the course of the writing process, my strategy has been to post whatever comes to mind and try to form a coherent plot off of that. That method has led to a lot of character inconsistencies and plot holes I couldn’t find a way to fix in future chapters and is the main reason I’m starting fresh.

Another has to do with the quality of these chapters, especially later on. To keep it brief, I hit one of the worst mental-health patches in my life recently and lost the motivation to do practically anything. I am on the mend now, and after meeting some fantastic people, the excitement to write (especially this) has come back in full force. I want to put out my peak content, and not just chapters to not disappoint with a lack of updates.

So, with that, in “Growing Up”, I’m entering with a planned plotline and solid characterizations I hope you’ll enjoy. If this is all you’d like of this, then I appreciate the time you’ve spent on Philza Becomes Dadza. You truly will never know what the positive reaction to this has meant to me. 

If you choose to join me on the ride, I hope to meet you at Chapter One. My passion for this story has returned at full force and I hope to not disappoint. :-)

As always, stay safe, y’all


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